Not All Stories Have Happy Endings
by cookies111
Summary: a lot less depressing than it sounds. Arthur Kirkland has an arranged marriage with Monica Goodbloom and is not happy. And when he meets a boy, Alfred Jones, in a coffee shop, it's love at first sight. but can he and Alfred get and stay together? M 4 lat
1. Chapter 1

_ A/N: I know, you guys probably want me to be working on High school Romance, but this came into my head at like, 9:00 last night. It took me like till 11:30 to finish the first chapter..._

_This will take longer to update than the other just because I don't have any other chapters yet._

_Anyway, I liked this. Hope you do too ^^._

_I don't own Hetalia_

. . .

"Are you alright, love?" An eighteen year old girl with silky chestnut hair and sky blue eyes asked her lover.

A slightly older man by two years with straw blonde, messy hair and emeralds for eyes, looked up. "O-oh, yes. Yes, of course Monica, dear." he answered.

The one known as Monica moved over to the man. "Are you sure, Arthur? You seem tense." She began to rub his shoulders. "This is a happy day. I turn eighteen today. Just one more year and we can get married!" The last word was said in an unnecessary squeal.

Arthur flinched. How he hated when she did that.

To be completely honest, he wasn't looking forward to the wedding.

It wasn't that he was afraid of commitment. Not at all! It's just – he didn't love Monica like she did him. He thought of her more as a friend than fiance.

However, he didn't have much choice in the matter. After all, it was arranged before either of their grandparents were born.

Yes, you may think that arranged marriages are a bit outdated for some countries. At least England*. But their parents liked things to be old fashioned, and rules to be followed.

And so, in honor of their ancestors, Monica and Arthur were set to marry a month after Monica, being the younger, turned nineteen.

They were first introduced to each other when Monica was five, and Arthur was seven. Right away, Monica took a strong liking to him.

She was always begging for him to play. Arthur, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with her. The boy would much rather have been reading, or writing a story, instead of playing tag or something with an over-enthusiastic child. But over the course of time, they'd grown to become friends.

Arthur would play games with Monica on occasion, but only if she promised to not get too annoying. He would also read her the stories he wrote.

She would always get so interested in them. Nearly every other sentence, she would just begin to rave about what a good writer he was, and that he was blessed with a gift.

Her personal favorite was the one about the boy and unicorn who became friends, and eventually lovers. It sounded wrong, until you find out that the unicorn was once a human child, who the boy fell in love with when he was little. But the unicorn died when he was a boy, and was reincarnated as how he was now. And a choice must be made.

Do they follow their hearts and stay together despite being of different species, or separate, because they believe it to be impossible?

Arthur hadn't finished that one yet when he read it to Monica. "So how does it end? Have you figured it out yet?" she would ask every day.

The boy would just shake his head. "I need inspiration." he would explain. And one day, seven years later, he got it.

Now, Arthur was fourteen, and Monica was twelve. They sat across from both their, extremely rich, parents.

Arthur's mother, Mary Ann, took a deep breath before saying, "Now, we know you two have known each other for quite some time now. And we think it's time to tell you...you're set to be married after Monica turns nineteen."

Immediately, the younger of them jumped out of the throne-like chair, and started spewing random, happy, excited words in a high-pitched squeal.

She was jumping, clapping her hands, and thanking the gods for giving her such an intelligent, gorgeous man. Meanwhile, Arthur sat there stunned, mouth open in a gape.

Marriage? He was going to marry this girl? He couldn't believe it! Sure he liked her, they had fun. But he didn't like her nearly enough to be married. Why did he have to do it? Why didn't he get to choose who he loved? It wasn't fair!

"...Why?" he asked aloud. Everyone looked at him.

"Why what?" Monica's mother, Jennifer, asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Why do I have to marry her?"

And then, it was like a bomb went off. It was like the London Blitz. All of Monica's attention was on him. She stared at him wide-eyed, with tears making them shimmer even more.

Oh, but that was the least of it.

Jennifer, for some odd reason, yelled, while Marcus, Monica's father, jumped up and started shouting, "WHAT! YOU THINK YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY DAUGHTER! Well if anything, she's too good for _you!"_

Johnson, Arthur's dad, also began to yell, "HEY! Don't talk about my son like that!" The shouting continued, while Mary Ann snuck over to Arthur.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Honey," she began explaining, "A long time ago, before your father and I were even born, our relatives decided that, to keep the family rich, sometime in the future, we would have to marry some other rich family. And, well, that time in the future is now. You should be honored."

But he wasn't honored. It didn't make sense.

Who cared about money? In all the books he had read, love was always more important than anything – especially money. Hell, people had given their lives and souls for love!

Plus they already had more than enough. Why did they need more?

He brought this up, "But we have enough money – both of us. Why would we need any more?" His mother just sighed, "It's not so much about money anymore, but about remembering our ancestors. We need for them to live on within us."

Arthur sighed. He hated this, but he had to do it.

That day, Arthur came up with an ending to his story. The boy and unicorn decided they couldn't be together, so they separated. But the boy was unhappy...so unhappy. And so, he did the only thing that made sense to him. He killed himself.

No, that's not exactly how Arthur felt, but he knew he could never get what he wanted the most, just like the boy.

"I don't like that ending." Monica complained when he read it to her. "I want a different one."

Arthur sighed. "We can't always get what we want Monica. No matter how much we hate it and think it's unfair. Not every story has a happy ending."

"Arthur?" Monica's voice brought him back to the present. He looked up at her worried face. "You spaced out for a second Hun. Are you positive you're feeling alright?" She placed one of her soft hands on his forehead.

The man sighed, but answered, "Oh yes darling, of course."

He then took her hand, and kissed it lightly on the back. He may not have liked the fact that he was getting married to her, but that didn't stop him from acting like the English gentleman he was.

Monica blushed a nice shade of pink, and giggled like some immature schoolgirl. "Shall we have cake then?" she asked in her best "lady-like" voice.

Arthur looked up at his future wife with a fake, apologetic smile. "Sorry love, none for me. I've been watching my waist." he lied. He didn't give two shits about his weight, but he had the sudden urge to leave. "I think I'll go get some coffee from that little cafe we saw before."

Monica looked at him funny. "But we have some of the best coffee beans in England right here in the house." "I know," he said, "but I like supporting small business's and shops and such."

His fiance smiled, "You have such a kind heart Arthur. I love you."

Arthur shifted a little. "...Yes. I-I love you too, biscuit." And he headed out the door.

~Time Skip~

The blonde man sipped his coffee as he began to head towards the door. The bitter liquid was better than he expected it to be. He was used to the highest quality everything, so it surprised him a bit that he found the drink so pleasant.

He was so engrossed in the beverage, that he didn't notice the door open. It bumped him, making his legs twist around, and his body begin to descend.

Arthur closed his eyes, preparing for impact on the ground. However, arms wrapped around him and it never came.

He opened his eyes in surprise to see two beautiful blue ones. Yes, his Monica also had blue eyes, but they were nothing compared to these. While his fiance's were like the sky, these were more like an ocean of sparkling sapphires.

"Holy crap! Sorry dude, you alright?" A distinct American voice asked worriedly.

Arthur got back on his feet, and took a look at the man who caught his fall. The sapphire's he loved so much were covered by glasses. Dirty-blonde hair was combed, not so neatly, but better than his own.

And perhaps most distinguishable about this man, (next to his eyes. Arthur could not obsess over them enough.) was a cowlick on top of his head that stood straight up.

"Uh, yes. Yes I'm fine." The shorter man answered. "Well that's good." the other laughed. He started to walk towards the counter, but something in Arthur made him ask the man, "would you like me to buy you something?"

He smiled. "Sure dude, that's rock."

Arthur paid for the man's drink, and began to talk with him. "So I haven't seen you in town before, Mr...?" "Call me Alfred." he said. "And yeah, I moved here from America for the school. I want to be a police officer – you know, an everyday hero! - and everyone knows that Churchill Academy is the best police academy like, ever.*"

Arthur giggled a bit, but looked at his watch.

Bollocks, he should get back to Monica soon. "If you'll excuse me Alfred, I must leave now. But I'd like to continue this some other time. Would you mind?"

A smile came onto Alfred's face, "Yeah, that'd rock. Same time on Tuesday?" "Of course." Arthur agreed. He grabbed his things, and headed out the door.

As he left, he smiled. He liked Alfred. He liked him a lot.

. . .

*Since I am not english, I don't know if they still have arranged marriages or not. I imagine not though. (idk, i'm a stupid American =_=)

*i don't know if that's true...i don't know if that academy is real either.

_A/n: sooooooooo, you guys like it? I do ^^_

_ BTW Monica is just a random OC._

_ I also started another story, i'll try to get that up soon._

_ And don't worry, i'm still working on High School Romance.:)_

_ Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_ A/N:thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved,& and put this on story alert. _

_this chapter isn't much more than talking. Just a thought, I think I should slow down a little. Idk =-=. This was kina fast for me. Hope u enjoy!_

_ I don't own hetalia._

_. . ._

Three days passed, and it was now Tuesday.

Arthur hurried around the house, fixing his cloths, combing his hair, even cleaning up his nails, just making sure he looked good. He felt like a woman fussing over his appearance so much.

Monica watched as he attempted to tame his wild hair. "Why are you so concerned over how you look?" she asked, "You've never cared about it before."

"Well honey, you know how crucial first impressions can be. I like to make good ones." He said.

Yes, that was part of it, but something else was factoring in. When Arthur thought about Alfred, a warm, fluttering feeling his stomach. He hardly knew the man, but just thought that something made him special.

The eyes…that's diffidently something, Alfred's eyes. They sparkled so casually. They just drew you in and made you want to befriend him. Arthur was in no way an exception.

"Ugh. Damn it! Why won't this work!" he yelled suddenly in frustration, slamming the hairbrush he was struggling to use down. This always happened. No matter how hard he tried, he could never get his golden mess of hair to look even the least bit decent.

If anything, brushing made it **more** disheveled.

Giggling softly, Monica began to massage her fiancée's shoulders. She found that doing so would often help ease his short temper.

"Sweetie, you look magnificent. You always do." She ran her fingers through his mess of hair. "I don't get why you're working so hard, but if it's important to you, we'll wet your hair down or something. You shouldn't brush it though. Your hair makes you look so childish. It's simply adorable!"

Again, the sentence ended in that dreaded squeal, and Arthur had to hold in a groan.

"So why do you like this man so much?" she asked while patting Arthur's hair to get it to stay.

The blonde shrugged, "Not sure really. I think it's his eyes." Monica stiffened up.

"…His eyes?" she asked in a whispery voice, "You, not only noticed, but took a liking to another man's eyes?"

Smoothing out his jacket and hair one last time, Arthur responded, "Yes. W-why, is there something wrong with that?"

His fiancée looked like she was thinking for a bit, but then relaxed. "No dear, not at all. Have a good time now!" she called as he exited.

~Time Skip~

Now outside the coffee shop, Arthur hesitated. It was 4:15, the exact time they agreed on. Was he too on time? Is that a real thing?

He didn't want to be waiting, and then have Alfred think he was desperate to see him…which he wasn't!

Wait – he was just worrying about coming off desperate…

Bloody hell, what was he, a fifteen year old girl? No. Arthur Kirkland does not fret over such trifle things.

But-but what if Alfred forgot, or wasn't serious? And then he'd feel like an idiot just standing there, waiting for someone who'd never come.

…And we're back to being like an adolescent on her fist date. This wasn't even a date. It was a get together with a man Arthur found interesting. '_Pull yourself together.'_ Arthur scolded himself.

'_Okay, just go in, order a coffee, wait fifteen minutes or so, and if he doesn't come, just go home back to your wife to be.' _

Yes, that would work.

Arthur started to walk inside. When he got inside, he wasn't surprised to see a more than decent amount of people, all chatting or eating. However, he was surprised to see Alfred, sprawled out in a chair, looking in disgust at a scone with a single bite out of it.

The gentleman couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips. He went up to the counter and ordered tea this time. Then, he strolled over to where Alfred sat.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Alfred looked up. "Oh, hey man." He said casually, "Wasn't sure if you'd actually show up." _'Heh, same for me.'_ Arthur thought about saying, but decided against it.

With a grin still on his face, the Brit took a seat in the leather chair across the table.

A few awkward moments of silence passed. The two men just looked at each other, occasionally taking sips of their drinks. They weren't really sure what to talk about.

Out of the blue, suddenly Alfred's eyes grew, and he slapped a hand to his forehead. Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow* in a questioning look. "What?" he asked.

The American chuckled lightly. "Well, it's just," he moved his hand to look at the man across from his sheepishly, "I just realized I have no clue what your name is."

Arthur felt like doing the same thing Alfred had. He had never given the man his name. Why hadn't he done that in the bloody first place?

"O-oh. Of course, I apologize, how rude of me. My name is Arthur Kirkland." Alfred's grin that seemed to be glued to his face grew. It was amazing how upbeat the man was. It really affected people around him.

"That's fine." He said, "Hey, I didn't even know your name, but to be honest, from the little information I have on you, I really like you." Arthur averted his gaze as he blushed. "I-I like you too." What was he saying? All he knew was about the man was his name and why he was here. Why was he acting like this? 

"S-so how old are you Alfred?" Arthur asked, trying to break the tension he felt. Judging by Alfred's height, Arthur would guess he's about twenty – five.

The darker haired one took a sip of his coffee before answering. "Oh, I'm nineteen." "N-nineteen?" The shorter sputtered. Bloody hell, this man (he could just barely be called that yet.) was younger than he was! Well, only by one year, but still!

"Yeah, nineteen. Why, how old are you?" Alfred asked.

Arthur quickly regained his composure. "Well, it's just I'm twenty, and I wasn't expecting you to be younger than me. You're pretty bloody tall."

Scratching the back of his neck, Alfred said, "Don't be offended or anything, but I'm not that tall. You're just kinda short." "I am not!" the Brit exclaimed. There were two things that really ticked him off. Those were when people insulted his (horrendous) cooking skills, and when people talked about his height. Alright, maybe he was rather short, so what?

Alfred snickered, looking amused at the other's outburst. This didn't go unnoticed. Arthur gave his signature pout he did when he was feeling insulted, or being stubborn. Monica often described it as, "the cutest thing that anyone has ever done in the history of forever".

The American stopped what he was doing when he saw it and gasped, instantly turning red…okay, that's never happened before.

A strange atmosphere had settled around them, so Arthur decided to get rid of it. "Uh, Alfred, do you have any family here with you, or did you come alone?"

Cheeks now a slightly lighter shade, Alfred responded, "Actually, my uncle lives here, I moved in with him. But back in America I lived with my mom, dad, brother, his name's Matthew, and my grandma lives with us now. Soooo~ do you have your own apartment, or do you live with your parents?"

'_Oh God.' _Arthur sighed. For some reason he always hated explaining this to people. One thing always led to another, and they always got so damn excited…or weirded out, depending on how far the conversation went.

He drew in air and let it out before saying, "Well, I live in a house my parents bought for me."

Alfred nodded. "That's sweet man. Yeah, I'm saving up for an apartment. There's one I have my eye on right now. It's small, but it's something. How big is your house?"

'_Ugh, here we go.'_ "Oh it's…decent sized." Arthur just couldn't lie. No matter how hard he tried, everyone saw through every single one of his fibs.

"…I don't know why, but something tells me it's not that." Alfred said…of course he did. "Arthur, if it's small, there's nothing to be ashamed of." Alfred gave a real, genuine smile. His gorgeous eyes sparkled with care.

Was this real? This man who Arthur had met just a few days ago, and was only speaking to for the second time was treating him with such kindness. The Englishman felt…good.

"Besides, it's probably not much worse than the apartment I want." Alfred had continued "So go on, just tell me."

Arthur sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day. There was no way in hell he could lie, and it wasn't like the truth would hurt anyone, it was just kind of weird. So fine. "Alright, it's a mansion. A big, bloody mansion."

The other man's eyes widened and his jaw hung loose. "A mansion? Seriously, you're not kidding?" Arthur shook his head in answer. "Aww, dude that's epic! Man, how rich are your mom and dad? What do they do?"

The sandy blonde chuckled a bit unenthusiastically, "W-well my mum inherited a company from my granddad, and my father is a plastic surgeon. Together they make quite a bit. Mother makes most of it though."

Oh no, he should **not** have mentioned that last part. "What kind of company does she own?" Alfred asked.

"…" Arthur groaned inwardly. This was the part he hated the most. "…My mother's company makes…ugh…sex toys."

Once again, Alfred's eyes went wide. "…Wow …and she makes most of the money?" Arthur put his head in one of his hands. "Yes, it's a very successful business apparently."

"Ha! That's just great." The blue eyed man giggled. "You're so lucky. I'll bet you'll never have to work, huh?"

Arthur shrugged, "Well, right now I don't **have** to, but I have a job at a local book store. When my mother retires though, I got to take care of the company. But until then, I like the job I have. Literature is kind of my passion. When I was younger-"

He stopped once he realized he was ranting. However Alfred grinned and silently waved a hand to say, go on, keep talking. "Uh, when I was younger I used to write stories. Back then I thought I was going to be the next Charles Dickens. Now that I'm older, I look back at them and realize they're pretty awful."

Alfred laughed, "That's interesting. I never really got into books and stuff. But I might like to read yours though. Even if you did write them when you were little." Wow, no one had ever said anything like that before. Sure Monica said she loved his stuff…when she was seven. "Thanks." Arthur said, not sure what else to do.

"Are you making money, or relying on your family?" The emerald – eyed one asked. The younger answered, "A bit of both. My mom and dad gave me some money, and my uncle's helping me out a little. But I have a job as a waiter. The pay's okay. I'm making enough, you know."

Arthur nodded. "So," Alfred began again, "is it lonely living in that huge house all by yourself?" "Oh no," The Englishman said, "I'm not alone. I live with my fiancée, Monica."

Suddenly, Alfred completely froze. A look of shock, and even small hints of horror, were all over his face. "… You have a fiancée?" he asked. His voice was soft, but sounded sad for some reason.

Now uncomfortable, Arthur responded, "Umm, yes. I've been engaged for a while now." He didn't think it was necessary to say it was arranged. What difference would it make?

Taking in a shaky breath, Alfred set down his, now cool coffee. "Is that so?" He seemed to be zoned out. The smile he always wore was gone, replaced with a slightly saddened frown.

"A-are you alright, Alfred?" asked Arthur, now worried. "Yeah, I'm fine." The younger responded, though he didn't look like it. His voice was much happier than his face…which wasn't saying much at all. And neither could come close to how terrible he felt. Of course, Arthur didn't know that.

Alfred slowly stood up. "I'm sorry Arthur, I need to leave. I'm sure I'll see you around." "Okay Alfred. G-good – bye I guess." What did he do? Why was Alfred leaving just like that?

As he was about to leave the table they were sitting at, Alfred said something. "Your fiancée, Monica was it," he hung his head, just a little, but Arthur noticed, "she's a very lucky woman." And the American walked away.

Poor Arthur didn't know exactly what had happened; just that he didn't like it.

. . .

_ **gasp* I don't think I've mentioned Iggy's eyebrows yet. Well that shall change!...probably. _

_A/N: …*sniff* noes! Kinda sad ending. Wow, I sorta used the word "bloody" a lot in this chapter, huh. _

_This was long for me. Don't expect many more this length_

_Review please!_


	3. Chapter 3 Alfred's POV

By India

_A/N: omg, an update! Sorry, but this is gonna be kinda filler. I had awful writer's block. I'd like to thank AlistersAngelSong from Deviant Art for giving me ideas and jogging my mind. Hope you like!_

_This chapter takes place right after the previous one. Its mostly just Alfred's feelings. you _

_Get to meet his uncle a little. Forget if I gave the uncle a name or not, soi just put it in this chapter_

_I don't own Hetalia_

{[( ALFRED's POV )]}

I could feel his eyes staring at my back in hurt and curiosity, but I ignored them. I had to get out of there, I just had to. My mind was reeling and my heart was aching. It started with those simple words, "_I live with my fiancée."_

Fiancée. Arthur had a fiancée. How lucky was she to have a man like him. I wasn't completely sure why I cared so much already. I'd only just met Arthur. But there was something . . . something about him that made my stomach turn and my face heat up just looking at him.

I've felt this before in smaller proportions. It was affection. This time though, it was so strong that my heartstrings were being tugged almost to the point of breakage. When I'd first laid my eyes on him, it was pure, true love at first sight.

From that first glance, I quickly grew to adore every little detail about him. Before I even knew his name I was tempted to make a confession of my undeniable feelings. It sounds corny and it sounds like it's too soon, but it's true.

He also seemed attach and take a strong liking to me quickly. I thought we had chemistry that was far past the point of friendship. I truly thought that we could be something together, and that we both wanted it. I even thought that we could take advantage of his mom's company for our own _special_ purposes.

But I guess I was just grasping at straws. I know it was way too soon but . . . it happens. It happened with me, I just thought it happened with him as well.

But now . . . now I see that everything was one-sided. What I thought we had was more than twenty miles away from the truth. Arthur didn't have feelings for me. He never would.

Arthur was straight.

That simple fact tore me apart from the inside. You don't know what pain is until you find that the one you love can't love you back. No, it doesn't physically hurt, but it might as well.

Maybe I'd get over it. Maybe in time the horrible sensation would fade and I could continue my life as I normally would. Maybe Arthur would even turn out to be a jerk and I wouldn't even care what he felt towards me.

No. No it wasn't that simple. You can't just let go. That's not how it works. And Arthur wasn't a jerk. I could tell. He was too sweet. It was in his eyes.

With my feet dragging, I trudged home through the puddles that were steadily forming on the ground. People continued with their daily routines around me, popping open umbrellas that they always carried with them. I had a fold-in one in the pocket of my jacket, but I didn't bother to open it. It didn't matter to me if I got soaked to the bone or not. I had others things to mull over.

What did he see in her? I never met her, obviously, but I had the feeling she was a total bitch. Whatever made her special to him I'm sure I could do it three times better. I could be everything he ever wanted and more. Arthur could grow to love me . . . right? He had to. He just had to.

I guess if he didn't, we could still be friends. We could still spend lots of time together and get closer than brothers. There would be days when he would ditch that harpy, Monica just to go hang out with me. We'd go fishing, out to eat, and maybe even stroll along the beach shore. And I could pretend that we were a couple, even though it was a total lie. I always had a good imagination.

Suddenly, I became aware of something warm dribbling down my cheeks and spotting my glasses that wasn't rain. Reaching up a hand to my eyes, I found that I was crying subconsciously.

'_Wow.'_ I thought in slight wonder and astonishment, '_It's been a while since I cried over anything. Especially a person.'_ Thunder rumbled in the distance, telling me that I should probably seek shelter soon. I ignored its warning and just pulled my sopping wet coat closer to me. I just wanted to get back home and crawl into my nice, warm bed and forget that the last part of today ever happened.

A shiver ran through my body as I suddenly realized how freezing I really was. I guess the devastation was so numbing that my nervous system didn't register anything.

"Ugh. I-it's so cold here compared t-to Ariz-zona." I whined to no one except the frigid air.

I needed a way to warm me up, or at least make it seem like my temperature was rising. My mind filled with images of fires burning strongly in a mantel in a cozy living room. Thick quilts covered small children that were roasting chestnuts and marshmallows on metal poles over that fire. Their young eyes were beginning to drift close as their minds tilted on the border of sleep.

The scene in my mind was beyond peaceful, and would have normally filled me with artificial warmth that could sustain me until I found a real source of heat, but the whole thing was wiped out as images of you-know-who replaced them.

I could picture him perfectly. His shining, golden hair messily framing his almost child-like face. Large, bushy eyebrows sitting cutely atop emerald green eyes. An adorable pout that always seemed to be present. Oh, and when he got mad at me for calling him short, his face was so darling. I gotta get under his skin more often.

Suddenly the rain beating down on me seemed to lose some of its coldness. Funny how some feelings could do that.

I let out I sigh. These next few weeks – maybe even months – were going to be absolute hell. All the time, my mind is going to be swimming with images and thoughts of Arthur. I'm going to be depressed all the time, and my life will suck. All because some random dude I only saw twice is married (to a lucky little whore who doesn't deserve him.).

I know I should be happy that Arthur has someone to make him happy. No, I know that I shouldn't feel anything! I barely know this man. But I'm not happy and I'm not indifferent. I'm devastated and I'm angry and I want to go back in time to whenever Arthur and her met and kill her! . . . Okay, maybe that's a little too far, but you get the picture.

"Oi, Alfred!" Someone called to me from behind.

I wiped my eyes to clear them of as many tears as I could, and looked back to see who the voice had come from. My Uncle Robert was running up to me holding an umbrella above his head to shield him from the rain. I'd overshot the apartment building.

"What're ya doing out 'ere without your umbrella, lad? Ah thought ah told you to keep one with ya at all times."

I sighed. "I was just coming home. Guess I was thinking too hard and didn't see that I was already home."

"Yer luckeh ah was watchin' out the window. Come on inside and put on some new cloths. Yer mom'd be pissed with me if ya got pneumonia after such a short time 'ere."

I silently nodded and followed him inside. After a warm shower, I collapsed into my bed and tried to clear my mind. I failed.

"I need to see him again. And I want to see Monica too. Just to get an idea of what she's like." I mumbled to myself. Then I heard a whistle in the doorway.

"Ooooh. Ya got a girl did ya? Monica, was it? When am I gonna see the li'le beauty?"

"Robert, I didn't find a girlfriend." He obviously didn't hear me right at all, and had no clue about my sexual orientation.

"Oh? Then who's Monica?"

". . . Just someone's fiancée."

"Who's?"

"A friend I met at the coffee shop. I told you about him, remember."

He paused to think, ". . . Oh yeah. 'Ow could ah forget. Ya went on about 'im for about an hour."

I chuckled a bit at the memory. "Yeah."

"So 'e's married?"

". . . Y-Yeah."

"So is she a babe?"

'_Fuck, I hope not.'_ "I don't know. I didn't see her."

He nodded and yawned widely. "Ugh, I'm getten' old. Can't believe I'm tired already. See ya' in the mornin' lad."

"Yeah. G'night."

He left me alone. I fell asleep with tears still in my eyes.

A/N:_ ooooh, bad ending. Hey, it's a new chapter, be happy! So yeah…yay! Sorry it was kinda filler but I had such bad writer's block and had to get this done. I'm working on HSR (High School Romance) too so be expecting that._

_ I have some other stories that I'm working on as well so….i'm done._

_Good to publish something again! Bye!_

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